It's A Dangerous Buisness
by fanficfanforev
Summary: When George moves in with Angelina, Fred puts an ad out to find a flat mate. Living with someone other than George is different than Fred ever anticipates. He expected the cat hair, but the midnight chases and near death duels are a bit more than he bargained for. And that was before his emotions decided to show up as well.
1. Chapter 1: No Place Like London

**Chapter One: There's no place like London**

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit_

_And the vermin of the world in habit it_

_-Sweeney Todd_

There are only a few things in this world Fred Weasley hates. Sour candies (they're evil, who hides something sour in something that's supposed to be sweet?), You-Know-Who, Slytherins winning the House or Quidditch cup, Homework (that goes without saying), and cats.

No, seriously, Fred hates cats. They're clearly hell-bent on world domination and are willing to do anything to get it.

So, Fred found himself with a bit of a dilemma. He had the perfect flat-mate, really she was, but her cat was staring at him with a pleased grin. Evil little thing probably knew just how much Fred disliked it. It wasn't even a proper cat. It was a weird, funny looking, hybrid thing. Half kneazle or something. Either way, it's orange fur was patchy, it was bandy legged, and had a seriously smushed face.

Crookshanks was clearly not amused by Fred's assessment of him, but he was enjoying the fear Fred was radiating.

Let's review, shall we?

The year was 2003, five years since the Great War and the Battle of Hogwarts. Five years since Harry tricked the world into thinking he'd died, only to come back and deliver a good old-fashioned whooping to You-Know-Who. Five years since Fred and George had reopened WWW. Five long, fun, more or less happy, years. Business was booming and life was good.

Until George Weasley got down on one knee and asked Angelina Johnson to be his bride. Fred had been deliriously happy for the couple until he realized, while cracking open the bubbly, that it meant something horrible. Fred's twin, his best friend, his other-freaking-half, would be moving out.

The twins lived above 93 Diagon Alley, over WWW. It was the way it was, and had been, since the day they opened the business. They'd agreed upon buying the building that whoever got married first (neither one expected it to happen within twenty years-way to stick to the plan, Georgie) would move out, and the single twin would stay at the flat.

George moved out a week after the proposal, and Fred was left to realize just how lonely the two bedroom flat actually was. It consisted of five rooms: a kitchen/dining room, a sitting room, a loo, and two bedrooms. With only Fred living in it, the place felt like Hogwarts. Huge, and very, very empty. Fred Weasley, half of the dynamic duo, the terrorsome twins, the Gryffindor Gurus, the Jokers, was short one twin.

Fred had found himself talking to himself an alarming lot. He also started to hold conversations with the coat rack. When he imagined its responding, he decided it was time to do the obvious.

Fred Weasley needed a flat-mate.

It seemed a remarkably simple idea that should be easy to solve. Fred took out an ad in the Daily Prophet that stated the following: _Wanted, one flat-mate. Address 93 Diagon Alley. 2 bedroom flat w/ kitchen, sitting room and one loo. Apply at WWW on 93 Diagon Alley. _

He promptly regretted it. Maybe he hadn't been specific enough. Maybe it was just a bad time for flat-mates. Either way, Fred quickly found out he wasn't the only lonely, magical, person in England. He was, however, one of the few normal ones.

Fred detested that word, especially when it was applied to him. He was not normal, thank you very much, and he was happy that way. He liked to be loud and disruptive. He liked to stand out from the crowd and be different. He reveled in his uniqueness.

After a week of flat-mate searching, he discovered he wasn't weird so much as happy and loud. No, Fred did not even come close to weird. It was scary how weird people seemed to be, and how all of the weird people now wanted to be his flat-mate.

The first person to respond to his post in the Daily Prophet was a young witch, twenty-four, that had been at Hogwarts (supposedly, Fred didn't remember ever seeing her there) and had a strange love for old dolls. He could have lived with that (even if they were creepy and seemed to stare at him with their unblinking eyes) but he could not and would not live with her other hobby. He would not spank her while she ate fried fish, no matter how much she asked.

His next one was a bloke in his thirties. He was rather over-weight, but Fred didn't care too much about any of that. It wasn't until he mentioned that enjoyed drinking that Fred was suspicious. A quick check in with his previous landlord proved extremely insightful. The man apparently drank nonstop and would, without fail, get so pissed he would urinate on the front steps to the building every single night.

Fred moved to the next girl, decided against her because she wouldn't pay rent on time. The next two blokes were both fond of walking around naked (one while singing opera and the other while reading a newspaper.)

The next one was by far the most exciting. He was in his twenties, well-educated from Bulgaria, and paid his rent. He didn't walk around naked or drink a lot. He seemed normal, and nice. Fred was just finishing the interview when the problem appeared.

Fred still doesn't know how anyone found out, but in the middle of a question about rent payments, five aurors popped into his flat and leveled their wands at the bloke.

He was a wanted drug dealer. Harry thanked Fred for holding onto him, and then took the git to Azkaban.

Ten prospects later, and Fred was getting worried. Seriously, some creepy witches and wizards wanted to live with Fred. There was a schizophrenic, a death eater, and a person that told him he would only wear Fred's clothes. What should have been remarkably easy-finding a flat-mate-was turning out to be a tour through all the scary people in England.

Fred half wondered if he could talk George out of moving in with Ange. Or, better yet, maybe they could just both move here.

Then Harry, the Boy Who Lived, Chose One, and Voldemort's Bane, saved Fred.

"You know, Hermione is looking for a flat. Maybe you should check with her?" Fred had flooed her that evening, and he now found himself sitting across from Hermione and her evil cat.

"I trust everything is in order." It marveled Fred how Hermione managed to sound prim even when she was sitting with a furry, would be tiny tyrant in her lap.

"Yeah, it's even alphabetized." Fred flipped through the pages without interest. He didn't need all the references, resume, or thirty page dissertation about why she was the perfect flat-mate. (Seriously, who wrote thirty pages on that? Fred couldn't even think of thirty pages worth of material about Pranks, and that was his life!) He already knew Hermione was pretty much perfect. He had lived in the same tower with her for five years. (Okay, four and a half, but who was counting?)

Point was, he already knew she'd be the perfect flat-mate. Well, pretty near perfect. She had been a little annoying with the whole prefect-no-pranks thing… Come to think of it, she had been very against anything that wasn't studying. Hopefully she no longer did that-they weren't at Hogwarts anymore, after all. Fred didn't need someone to mother him, and he certainly didn't need a flat-mate that did that.

No, the only problem would probably be the cat. After his other interviewees though, a cat hardly seemed problematic.

Crookshanks flicked his tail and smirked. Something that a cat shouldn't be able to do, but Crookshanks had perfected.

"So, Crookshanks would be living with us?" Hermione furrowed her brow and nodded her head slowly.

"Oh, of course." She bit her lip and studied her familiar for a moment before adding in a rush; "but he's house trained and I take care of all his needs. You'll never even notice him."

Oh, Fred would notice him. Fred would never forget him less he try to attack Fred in the middle of the night. Hermione was biting her lip again, clutching Crookshanks to her chest tightly. Her eyes were suspiciously bright and refused to meet Fred's. Fred had enough experience with Hermione to know what that meant. She was panicking, but Fred couldn't figure why. She was still living in a flat, it wasn't like she'd been evicted or anything.

Fred was also leery. He still remembered living with her at Hogwarts. Fred didn't need someone yelling at him all the time. He wouldn't be able to handle it if she was manic about pranks and cleaning stuff. He really didn't want to live with someone that was going to mom him all the time.

"So, why here?" He didn't mean to ask it, but Fred said it out loud so he just went with it. Hermione startled a little and clutched Crookshanks tighter. If she kept it up Fred wouldn't have to worry about the cat because she would have strangled him. Crookshanks' eyes bugged out a little. He apparently agreed with Fred's assessment.

"I just really, really need to get out of my flat. This is my best option. I don't make a lot at the ministry, and I can't move somewhere that isn't magical with Crookshanks. Which also means I have to have somewhere pet friendly."

Fred studied her, taking in the way she was fidgeting, her downcast eyes, and the light blush coloring her cheeks. Whatever was wrong, she clearly didn't want to talk about it. She also clearly needed out, and Fred needed a flat-mate. He wouldn't leave her on her own, not after all she'd done to help Harry and his brother in Hogwarts.

Besides, he was a little terrified to see what the next prospect would be like. He could live with Hermione. Who knew, Fred might even talk her into helping with prank inventing. She was certainly brilliant enough!

"I tend to experiment at all hours, and it's usually loud. I talk a lot-regardless of whether I'm alone or not. I'm a horrible cook and I'm messy. I only have friends over on the weekends, and I hate having a lot of people over during the weekdays. It throws my schedule off. That said, I'll let anyone sleep over if they need to. Also, I tend to have pranks set up all over the place. I don't even remember where half of them are at. You will be experimented on, it's nothing personal, it's just gonna happen."

Hermione had sat still, eyes wide, during his entire spill. Now she blinked twice and offered a timid grin.

"I'm a heavy sleeper, so you won't bother me, and I'm brilliant at silencing charms. I'm quiet, but I don't mind listening to others talking, as long as you don't mind my ignoring whatever you're saying while I read. I'm a decent cook-as long as I have ingredients, but I love take-away too. I'm used to living with your brother and Harry, so messy doesn't bother me. I won't clean up all your stuff though. I'm fine with only having friends on the weekends. If you do something truly horrible to me though, I will retaliate. That said, I'm alright with accidental experimentation, or advance warning."

Fred grinned, dropped the papers Hermione had given him about why she was a good flat-mate on the table, and reclined back. "Brilliant. Any quirks I should know about? The reading thing doesn't bother me."

Hermione flashed a toothy smile. "I am extremely protective of my books-I'll knock you silly if you hurt one. I do a lot of things the muggle way, like cleaning. I occasionally sleep walk and talk. Only in French though."

Fred couldn't let that go. "Wait," he held up a hand to stop her, "You sleep talk in French?"

Hermione blushed beet red and nodded her head. "Yes, only when I'm stressed."

"That is amazing."

A shy smile later, and Hermione was continuing. "Also, Crookshank hates mice." She considered her cat for a moment, "and he turns nearly catatonic in front of a fire."

Crookshanks hissed and shook his head in annoyance. Fred grinned and nodded his head. He was fairly certain he'd need to know all the weakness the cat had to survive.

_If this goes horribly, I'm blaming you, George_. Fred thought with a grin. He handed Hermione the lease to the apartment and pointed to the bottom. "If you sign there, you can move in as soon as you want to."

"Thank you." Hermione signed with a flourish, still biting her bottom lip.

* * *

_A/N: And here is a new story. I want to write a little grown up Harry Potter, so I'm doing this as well as Between Sleep and Awake. I'll eventually get back to 'What it takes' Once I figure out just why the site took it down. In the mean time, this one is going to be fun to distract myself with._

_The description of the failed flat-mates are based off my sisters and my actual roommates in college. There are some scary and crazy people out there. i can give more stories if you're interested ;) _

_Let me know what you think, please? Leave a review and you'll honestly make my day. _


	2. Chapter 2: Brand New State

**Chapter Two: Brand New State!**

_We know we belong to the land  
And the land we belong to is grand!  
And when we say Yeeow! Ayipioeeay!  
We're only sayin': You're doin' fine,_

_-Oklahoma_

Just looking at Hermione, one wouldn't suspect that she would be the type of person that had a lot of belongings. She clearly wasn't into clothing. (Not that she looked bad, Fred rather liked her unfussed look, actually.) And didn't seem to be a materialistic person. No, most of Hermione's possessions consisted of two things: lab equipment and books.

Fred owned a lab, he had everything in it. Cauldrons, mortars, pestles, retorts, calcinators, alembics, vials, and endless ingredients. Hermione had it all, and more. Strange shaped flask, fancy pliers to hold test tubes, clamps, bunsen burners, cylinders, endless funnels, a weight for measuring ingredients, a strange rocking blade to cut ingredients faster, and a buret. She said it came from her dad's 'chemistry' set. They were apparently muggle objects, but they made potion making much easier.

Her book collection was downright impressive. She installed a bookshelf against the far wall of her room that stretched the entire length of that wall, from the ceiling to the floor, and she still had more books. Fred stopped counting them at five hundred and just helped her stack the boxes in her room. They were a mixture of muggle and magical books. One thing was sure; Fred would never have to visit a library if he needed a book. She had everything.

Fred would most definitely be getting her help with inventions.

All in all, the moving went really quickly. And smoothly, something Fred hadn't expected. Hermione didn't own any furniture outside of her bedroom suit, and had all the dishes/pans that Fred didn't. She had Harry, Ron, and Neville help her move her belongings over so that went extremely quickly. George insisted that Fred keep their furniture, so there hadn't actually been a lot of furniture needed. Which was rather a good thing as Hermione didn't own any. Her flat had been furbished by her landlord. However, in leaving the furniture, he had requested that he be allowed the plates, cups, bowls, silver ware, and other kitchen supplies. Apparently Ange didn't cook at all and didn't own any of the essentials. Since George was the primary cook of the twins, it had seemed a good idea. Thankfully Hermione had the bare necessities (i.e. she had plates, cups, silver ware, and a few pots) for the kitchen.

Aside from books, Hermione had a lot of pictures. There was an entire box of frames, all of them filled with both still and moving images. Fred, being the only one in the sitting room, and having control of that particular box, decided to take a minute or two to snoop through it. He wasn't doing it to be nosy; he just liked looking at photos. He was mildly curious about who all Hermione would have pictures of as well.  
A lot of them were still images, and he assumed they were of her family. Most of the figures in those images had brown eyes, though there were a few with green eyes, and one young boy with blue eyes that Fred couldn't help but wonder about. The moving images were, unsurprisingly, of Hogwarts. There were a ton of images of her, Harry, and Ron. He was certain they were from Colin as none went back as far as their first year, and a rather a lot were of their second year. There were lots of Neville, Dean, Seamus, Harry, Ron, and various other students in their year. A few group shots of the DA made Fred grin, and one of him and George laughing as Neville changed into a canary actually made him snort.

The last frame in the box was a tetraptych (four sectioned), and made his hand still. It was of Colin, Lavender, Justin and Michael. They had all died in the final battle at Hogwarts. Hermione had shot the wizard that was attacking Lavender (Fenrir unless Fred was mistaken) but Lavender had already died.

They were all images of the fallen heroes in their best element. Michael was curled up in a large, worn chair in the library reading a thick tome. He looked utterly entranced in the book and was obviously unaware that he was being photographed.

Colin was cleaning his camera, smiling down at it with obvious affection. He was wearing his Gryffindor robes, and a little Harry Potter Hogwarts Champion pin. It would have been his third year, and he was still vibrating with the excitement of just being at Hogwarts.

Justin was in the Quidditch field laughing uproariously at someone out of frame. It was snowing so his cheeks were red and he had little bits of snow in his hair. He'd look right at the camera, his bright eyes sparkling and then collapse in laughter all over again.

Lavender was putting on some makeup, looking in the mirror and noticing the photographer before sticking her tongue out at them. She'd then grin and go back to fixing her eyelashes. She hadn't gotten all of her makeup on yet, so she actually looked really pretty.

It made Fred's heart clench a little to look at the fallen friends. He wondered a little why Hermione chose those four to have pictures of. Why them and no one else? What was the story behind their friendships?

The others reappeared right then, so Fred had to put the pictures away and drop the box off in Hermione's room. He might ask her about it sometime.

He came back to the sitting room to find everyone else there.

"Alright, that's the last of the boxes that were in the living room. Ron took care of the loo, and Neville had the kitchen. You took care of the bedroom, right?" Harry directed his question to Hermione, an easy grin on his lips. It still startled Fred a little to see him do that so easily. At the end of Hogwarts Harry's smiles had been few and far between. Then, in the post war clean up, smiles had been fairly rare from everyone.

"Yeah, it's clear."

"So that's everything then?" Ron came up beside Harry and looked around the flat with a mild interest. Neville, standing a few feet behind the best friends, stretched and yawned. Hermione watched her friends with a small smile before nodding.

"Yeah, that was everything. Thank you-"

"Don't mention it, seriously. You helped all of us. Only fair to return the favor." Neville stepped towards her and took her arm, pulling her into a partial hug before addressing Fred. "Sorry to move and run, but Luna's waiting on me. She's prepared dinner and everything."

"Gurdyroots?" Ron's face said everything about how he felt about that particular vegetable. Fred grinned and made a mental note to give him a birthday gift of the vegetable.

"Yeah, they're not that bad." Harry shook his head in disagreement while Ron made a show of gagging.

"Thank you again, Neville. See you Monday?" Neville nodded and then stepped into the fireplace. He disappeared with a shout of Luna's address.

"Well, we'd love to stay and chat, but we have to go. Kingsley's got us on night shift this week, which means we're on in an hour and-"

"And I'm not going in before I've eaten." Ron finished for Harry. He trotted towards the fireplace and Harry joined him, shaking his head in well-conditioned amusement at his best friend and flat-mate.

"See you tomorrow, Hermione. Later Fred." Then they also disappeared, and Fred was alone with Hermione. His new flat-mate.

They both stood there without saying a word.

And, for the first time in Fred's life, he had no idea of what to say. Fred prided himself on always knowing something to say to break any tension. George had even described him as walking up to awkward silences and shaking its hand. Fred was always comfortable finding something to say because he was fine with looking the part of a fool.

Blast it, what could Fred say? There had to be a conversation topic somewhere. Anything would do, he wasn't picky!

Hermione, with her eyes on the empty fireplace rocked back and forward on her heels. She crossed her arms over her chest and then bit her lip. Fred took a little comfort from the fact that she was clearly just as blank on what to do next as Fred was.

Hermione bit her lip and then spoke. "Well, this is awkward." Fred felt it didn't actually need to be said. Saying it just made it all more awkward.

"Not awkward," Fred protested weakly. "Not unless we let it be awkward."

Hermione snorted loudly and brought a hand up to her cheek, shaking her head in amusement at Fred. "Is that so? Is that your life motto?"

Fred grinned. They had a conversation now, he could work with this. "Awkwardness is just a state of the mind. If I don't accept that something is-or should be-awkward, then it won't be."

Hermione raised a thin eyebrow in a familiar expression. "Is that so? And just how's that been working out for you?"

Fred shrugged. "Well enough." Hermione smiled again and gave her head a little shake.

"Come on then. I'll pick up the take-away if you can find the cups and plates." Fred agreed with the plan and Hermione slipped out of the flat while Fred went about unpacking her kitchen ware. Her plates were a neutral cream color, and although that was boring, it didn't clash with anything.

It wasn't until Fred was carrying the plates into the sitting room (he figures they can eat on the couch. It's more comfortable and has the added bonus of not requiring them to clean off the dining room table which is holding a portion of Hermione's library) that he realized that he was not alone in the flat. Fred had completely forgotten about the flat's other occupant.

Crookshanks looks up at Fred from his perch on top of mantel. His tail swished noiselessly through the air while he smirked at Fred with a decidedly evil glint in his eyes.

Fred nearly dropped the plates, much to the amusement of the evil half cat. "I forgot about you." Fred told the cat as he set the plates onto the table, faking nonchalance. Crookshanks didn't buy it, and just grinned a little wider. It was unnerving, and made Fred's skin crawl.

Fred set the silverware out and made a show of arranging them next to the plates. Finally, he couldn't take the cat's silent staring any longer. "Listen, we're going to have to get along. You're living in my flat now, so I'm the boss." Crookshanks made a very disconcerting noise that sounded a bit like he was heaving up a hairball. It took Fred a moment to realize the cat was actually laughing at him.

"Hey!" Fred stomped towards the cat and poked him in the ribs with his index finger. "This is my flat, which means you're under my rule. You have to listen to me or I'll evict you."

Crookshanks raised his paw and swiped at Fred's arm, baring his claws. Fred yelped and stumbled backwards. "Hey, none of that! Play nice or I'll-"

"Fred?" The door to the flat clicked shut and Fred's eyes widened as he heard Hermione step into the flat. He could smell the Chinese takeaway and it made his stomach grumble hungrily.

This probably looked a bit bad.

"Are you arguing with my cat?"

Fred turned to see Hermione holding the food in one hand, her other hand cocked on her hip with her head titled to the side. She looked a little confused, but mostly amused. Fred grinned a little sheepishly.

"He started it?"

Hermione shook her head and deposited their dinner on the coffee table before plopping down onto the couch. She tucked her feet up beside her and grabbed a box of ramen noodles. Fred joined her after a second, grabbing a box of food and an egg roll.

Crookshanks hopped of the mantel and made his way towards Hermione. He made a point of crawling across Fred's lap, depositing a little of his fur in Fred's Chow Mein, and flicking Fred's nose with his tail. Hermione tutted at her cat and handed him a bit of fish.

"Honestly. You two will eventually need to be friends. You both lived at Hogwarts peacefully for two and a half years, and you've spent loads of time together at the Burrow."

Crookshanks mewled as if to say 'but that was different.' Hermione tutted again.

"It was not different."

Fred watched the conversation with a slightly curious air. Hermione is excellently interpreting her cat's expressions and informing him that they all live there now. She then scooped him up and whispered something into his ears. Whatever the words were, they worked a magic on the cat and he settled down, wrapping his tail around Hermione's leg in a mildly possessive manner.

It occurred to Fred, after he took a rather large bite of his eggroll and had to chew it for a minute, that this is actually remarkably comfortable. He no longer felt such an awkward, pressing need to start a conversation, and he doesn't feel like he needs to entertain Hermione. So, a moment later when she asked him if the shop would be open tomorrow and an easy, two hour conversation developed out of it, Fred decided the flat-mateship might actually work.

As long as the cat stopped scratching him.

* * *

_A/N: __Whoops, I didn't even think about the title lyrics of the last chapter scaring people off. I wasn't referring to London in general with the title, just the creepy flat-mates he was finding. Sorry! I should have clarified :)_

_And yes, I'm going to do all the titles after musicals. I've seen entirely too many (I have a theatre major for a sister, don't even get me started.) and I need to put all those lyrics to some sort of use._

_To all the new readers, welcome, you're about to glimpse into my crazy mind. ;) jk, don't worry, I'm not scary (mwhaha!) To all my other readers, welcome back! Feel free to give me ideas or prompts you'd like to see in this story. I can't promise I'll use it here, but who knows. If I do use it, I'll give credit ;)_

_Ta-ta for now, and keep reading and reviewing!_

_Oh, ps! Let me know if any of you have crazy room/flat mate stories. I love hearing them :) Also, did anyone spot the HIMYM quote hidden inside?_


	3. Chapter 3: Things I'm Learning About You

**Chapter Three: Things I'm Learning About You**

_Getting to know you,_

_Getting to know all about you._

_-The King and I_

The first month sharing a flat with Hermione Granger was best described with one fairly loaded word: Adjustment.

The first one happened the first night, right after they finished their takeaway. It wasn't even nine yet, and Fred anticipated staying up until at least midnight.

"Would you mind helping me with the dishes?" Hermione slid off the couch with enviable grace and picked up the plate she had eaten off of. Crookshanks mewled from his spot on the mantel (Fred was a little curious why the cat liked the spot) and flicked his paw at Fred in what appeared to be a warning. Fred considered the cat for a moment before giving it up. It wasn't like he could win a staring contest with him, and Crookshanks wouldn't listen to him.

Hermione was still waiting for Fred's answer so he smiled and picked up his plate, fork, and cup. "Don't you know any dish spells?"

Hermione frowned and went to the kitchen. "I should ask you the same." She said over her shoulder. Fred raised an eyebrow, feeling a little surprised. "Nope, George did all that..." Fred probably should have asked him for a list of things he did around the flat. There were some spells he was going to need to learn.

Ooh! They should make a product! Something like a self-acting sponge. You could drop your dishes in the sink and it'd automatically clean them.

It was something to consider at least.

Hermione was now staring at Fred as though she was worried for his sanity. It was a familiar look and made Fred grin. He was doing something right if she thought he was mental. He dropped to his knees and pulled three objects out from under the kitchen sink while Hermione watched.

"So, soap and water then? Anything else needed?" Fred asked, showing that he had the soaps.

Hermione grinned and took a blue soap and a green soap and put them back under the sink. "Thanks, but we only need the orange one. Was George the cleaner of you two, by any chance?"

"What gave it away?" Fred grinned. Hermione chuckled and shook her head. She grabbed the orange soap and poured a bit into the sink before turning on the tap. She mumbled a spell and the water filled up the sink quickly. Fred hopped up and stood in front of the sink before Hermione gently pushed him aside.

"I think I'll do that." She handed him a bright green dish towel (was it his or hers? Fred needed to get better acquainted with the kitchen.) "You can dry."

That was easy enough. Hermione washed the dish off and handed it to him with a reassuring smile. Fred attacked it with a towel and then set it on the relatively clean counter. (It had a stain from a failed experiment years earlier, and several items that needed to be put in some cabinet were lying about it.) He took the next plate from Hermione while she concentrated on cleaning the glasses. It was only a minute or two later that they had it all finished.

"See, it's not hard at all." Hermione commented as she drained the water out of the sink. Fred put the plates into the cabinet, it'd be less for him to worry about tomorrow, and shut the cabinet door before yelping.

Crookshanks was perched on the counter, an evil grin lighting his feline lips as he peered up at Fred. Damn, that cat could be quiet when it wanted to. Fred hadn't heard him move at all.

Hermione, apparently used to her cat's ninja like skills, scooped him up, completely un-startled by his sudden appearance. Fred not so much. He stood still for an additional minute, staring at the spot the cat had been with extreme distaste. Maybe Fred could find a bell to put on his collar...

"I'm off to bed."

That drew Fred out of his cat related thoughts. "Huh?"

"I'm going to bed."

"Why? It's only" a quick glance at the stove, "Nine. Isn't that a bit early?"

"Well, I go in to the ministry at five. I have to get up at four."

Fred blinked twice, not really comprehending that. He was not a morning person. "As in, AM?"

Hermione laughed and nodded her head, an amused grin lifting her lips as she pulled Crookshanks closer. "Yes, Fred. As in AM."

"Eurgh." Was all Fred could think of for a reply. Hermione nodded her head and gave a little smile. She then shifted her weight between her legs. "Umm."

That blasted awkwardness was coming back. Fred mentally shoved it away and smiled in what he hoped was more disarming than mischievous. (It was equal parts both, making a very unusual grin.) "Alright, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite. I'll be quiet."

Hermione nodded her head. "I won't wake you tomorrow morning, don't worry."

"I think I'd hex you if you tried to."

Hermione snorted and headed towards her room. Fred was sure he heard a 'I'd love to see you try' before she shut the door though.

Ha! Fred thought with a grin. He'd beaten the awkwardness. They might just make this work. Well, as long as she didn't wake him up at that horribly early hour. Fred shuddered and then went to his room. He'd work on figuring out a way to make that sponge.

Hermione's early bed time and the quiet time that it imposed was the first adjustment, the second happened the following night. Fred had woken up to find the flat was all his (he had no idea where Crookshanks was and decided against looking for the cat.) He worked at the shop from eight till six, and then went upstairs to find Hermione setting up dinner.

It was spicy curry, something Fred had never had before, but would not be opposed to having again. That wasn't the adjustment though, not by a long shot. They ate in the sitting room again (Fred really would clear the table off eventually) and chatted the evening away. Nine o clock came and Fred watched Hermione go to her bedroom with a smile.

Fred had planned it so that he would work on his inventing at night, it'd give him something to do when he was alone. Tonight he was going to work on a prototype for his sponge idea. He went to his bedroom and started tinkering around with his cauldron.

It wasn't fifteen minutes until he spilt a bit of the potion on his hand. Fred was still in the early inventing stage and didn't really know the effects of the potion at this time. So, he did what he always did. He jumped up and raced to the bathroom to wash off his hand.

Hermione was standing in front of the sink with her hand on her face. She was sticking a finger into her eye.

It took Fred a moment to process the scene. When he realized what she was doing he made a odd choking noise that drew her attention. She smiled at his reflection. "Hello, Fred. What is it? Do you need the loo? I'll be done in just a moment." All the while she kept poking her eye. After a moment she returned her attention to the mirror (she'd decided Fred wasn't going to respond) and she made a happy noise. She pulled her finger away from her eye and it came back with what looked like a bit of glass.

"Gwha?" The word Fred made was nothing close to what he was trying to say. (Which was something along the lines of 'Sweet Merlin are you insane and do you stab yourself a lot?')

"Oh," Hermione grinned disarmingly at Fred's reflection and gave her head a little shake before turning on the tap. She turned towards Fred and picked up her toothbrush, still smiling. "I'm sorry, I forgot you'd have never seen these." She held the odd bit of glass, which, upon looking closer Fred realized wasn't really glass but was more of a plastic. "They're my contacts."

"Contacts?" Fred questioned, giving the strange bits of plastic a little poke. They were extremely thin.

"They work like glasses, but you can put them on your eyes so no one knows you need them."

"They're like glasses with invisibility cloaks." Hermione barked out a laugh and nodded her head.

"More or less. " She turned back to the sink and began to brush her teeth. Fred watched her, entranced by the very methodic way she went about the task. (He quite forgot about his hand, which was beginning to turn a slightly orange color.)

Two and a half minutes later and Hermione rinsed her toothbrush before putting it away. She caught Fred still staring and gave a half smile. "Sorry, my parents are teeth healers. I take my dental care very seriously."

Fred grinned. "I know."

"Your hand is turning orange." Hermione, to her credit, pointed this out without any visible alarm. Fred started and rushed to clean his hand off while Hermione finished her nightly routine. She wished Fred a good night and then returned to her room. Fred turned off the tap with his no longer orange hand, and couldn't help but shudder a little when he saw the 'contact' case. They were clever, but it still didn't change how creepy it was to see Hermione poking at her eye. He'd have to make sure he stayed out of the bathroom while she took them out.

Over the next two week Fred found out a lot of things about Hermione. She loved tea with honey, hated anything grape flavored, she was terrified of bugs that could hop, she had the ability to touch her nose with her tongue (a rather odd conversation had led to that gem of a discovery) she put her mugs in a certain order and got annoyed if they weren't kept in that order, she never changed her bedtime, she didn't eat the crust on her pizza, she detested all swear words (she called it 'foul' language) and she wasn't kidding when she said she was protective of her books.

Fred found that fact out on the fourth night they were flat mates. The crazy part of that little story was that it hadn't even been _her_ book.

Fred had just been sitting under the dining table (they still hadn't cleared it off) working on his sponges when Hermione came in. She'd stopped by the local tesco to get a gallon of milk (she would not drink tea without milk in it, another little fact Fred had learned)

"Fred, what are you doing?"

"Working on the Spotless Sponges."

"Yes, but why are you under the table?"

"It's the best place for controlled explosions."

"I'm sorry? Did you say explosions?"

Fred finally looked up from the spell book he was studying. He was trying to memorize the enchantments motions. He hated having to read and enchant at the same time. It always ended messily. "Yes I did say explosions." Fred clarified at the blank expression on Hermione's face. "You know. The type that goes BOOM and leave lots of smoke and potentially bad smells in the air?"

"Well, don't cause one, please." Hermione set the shopping down and began to take the items out. Fred gave his shoulders a little shrug and went back to his book. He gave the spell one last look and then lifted his potion up. Two taps of his wand later and Fred began to mumble the incantation.

Then the tiny tyrant appeared. Crookshanks jumped on top of the table and hissed at the bare wall, scaring Fred. Fred jumped and knocked his potion over, right onto the book and his own lap. He yelped in shock and pain as it started to eat through his jeans at an alarming rate.

Hermione shrieked and ran to the table. Fred mumbled a banishing spell at the potion (praying it didn't catch his jeans as well).

"I'm fine!" He assured as Hermione dropped to her knees beside him. Hermione gave him a look like he was crazy and clutched the book to her chest.

"What have you done?"

Fred could only blink in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

"You didn't put a single protective spell on this book! You could ruin it like this! I've never seen something so careless!) She stood up and stepped back, giving Fred a furious glare before setting the book on the counter. She quietly mumbled spells over it, caressing it with long fingers.

Fred could still only blink. The book. She was only worried about the bloody book. Crookshanks hissed again and Fred bumped the table with his shoulder, jostling the troublesome cat. Hermione finished her spells and lifted the book up. She pulled it to her in a tender hug and glared at Fred again.

"I'm going to charm your books. Honestly. Don't you dare come near any of them until I'm done. And clean that up! You better hope it doesn't stain!"

Fred thought about telling her that it was his flat and he'd clean it up when he felt like it, but he kept his mouth wisely shut instead.

If she did that for a book, he'd hate to see what she did over a floor.

* * *

_/A/N: ALERT! Mya is not doing well, she has gotten bronchitis! She's currently in Intensive care, keep her in your thoughts and prayers, please! Updating might be a little sporadict for a bit because of that. My family is the only that lives in the state she does so I'm on babysitting duty till further notice. I'll let you know about all updates._


	4. Chapter 4: More to Find

**Chapter Four: More To Find**

___It's the Circle of Life  
And it moves us all  
Through despair and hope  
Through faith and love_

_-The Lion King_

Fred realized (much, much later) that they might have just continued on like that. Happily sharing the flat and becoming friends, had two unknowing people not interfered. Neither interferer (Fred loved making up words) had any idea they were interfering, and Fred never technically met either of them. He found it endlessly amusing that two complete strangers would end up changing everything about his life. It was a brilliant prank by the universe.

And it all started with a rather pretty flash of orange and heat one Wednesday evening.

"Fred? Freddie!? Fred, can you hear me?" George's frantic inquiries would have been lost on Fred if he hadn't been staring at his twins mouth. Which was right in front of his face or some reason. Fred wasn't a hundred percent sure what had just happened, but the room was spinning. (Which was a frightfully regular occurrence for the wizard.)

He'd been working on something… was it soap or Chameleon Chews? Everything was fuzzy.

"Fred, answer me!" Fred heard George this time, and couldn't fight the twitching of his mouth. Fred grinned.

"Yeah. Gads, why are you so close? What happened?" George sat back on his haunches, giving Fred space and making Fred realize that he was lying on the floor of their inventing lab.

"Why am I so close?" Irritation was clear in George's tone. "I'll tell you why, you git! You mixed wormwood with Chameleon Chews-what in the great baggy pants of Merlin were you thinking?"

Oh, well that made sense. He must have mixed his cauldrons up. He put the soap ingredient in with the Chews cauldron. Fred knew there had been a reason he wasn't supposed to do more than one product at a time. They tended to go 'BOOM' on him when he wasn't paying attention. They were devious like that.

Fingers snapping right at the edge of his nose brought Fred out of that reverie and back to the still spinning room. "Hey! What gives?"

George frowned and dropped his hand, studying Fred intently. "You prat. You're still really out of it. Did you hit your head?"

How was Fred supposed to remember? He barely recalled the explosion. He didn't have any memories after that. "I have no idea. Probably." Fred looked around and noticed how dark the room was. "What time is it anyway?"

"Just after Eight. Why?"

"Shit! I was supposed to make dinner tonight-Hermione had a late meeting and was depending on me to pick up something. She has to be in bed in like, five minutes."

George raised a thin, but very expressive, eyebrow. "She goes to bed at eight?"

"Eight-thirty, actually. She has to be at work at four in the morning." George blinked twice and shook his head.

"No job, or pay, could get me out of bed at four in the morning."

"Two-thirty. She takes a while to get dressed and ready."

"Bloody hell." Fred completely agreed with the sentiments. He couldn't even voice how much he agreed. There was nothing that would be able to make him regularly get up that earlier. Just no.

"I've got to go! Thanks for waking me up!"

Fred jumped up, ignoring the still slightly off kilter world and George's worried shouts. He didn't stop until he reached the flat, and that was only to unlock the door. He slipped into the flat and then abruptly stood still, his blue eyes widening in surprise.

Hermione was curled up on the couch, her head lying on the couch arm and her arms curled around her legs. She had a comforter over her shoulders and a box of leftover curry in front of her on the table. Her breath was coming in quiet little gust and her dark eyes were shut.

She was fast asleep.

Guilt and relief welled up in Fred in equal parts. Hermione had found some food, so he hadn't completely failed her, but she'd clearly fallen asleep waiting on him.

Fred shook his head hoping to clear his thoughts and tiptoed towards Hermione. He had plenty of practice moving around sleeping witches. Ginny was notorious for falling asleep on the couch. George and Fred were the only siblings who could move her without waking her. And no one wanted to wake up Ginny. She was not a happy sleepy person.

Fred slowly scooped Hermione up, exhaling in relief when she didn't wake up. It was a quick trip to her bedroom and then he carefully deposited her onto her bed. He slipped out of the room without waking her and grinned victoriously. He did it. Fred Weasley, sneak extraordinaire. No invisibility cloak needed.

Realizing that he himself was actually quite hungry, Fred shut the bedroom door and headed towards the kitchen, only to stop short for the second time in less than ten minutes.

Crookshanks was perched atop the kitchen counter, his horrible pale eyes locked on Fred. It wouldn't have freaked Fred out (too badly) normally, but it wasn't his normal position. He was sitting primly with his bushy tail flicking back and forth, normal enough, but he had a mouse in his mouth.

A very dead, very bloody, very mangled mouse in his mouth. It looked like he had tortured the creature before deciding to kill it and camp out on Fred's counter. He'd have to sterilize the entire area now.

Crookshanks, with his yellow eyes locked on Fred, blinked twice and raised an eyebrow in obvious challenge.

Fred considered his options. Hermione was fast asleep and unlikely to wake up so he couldn't call her for aid. Crookshanks was evil and had commandeered the kitchen. He could face the nasty cat and possibly obtain dinner, but he would be more likely to be injured and not get any food for his troubles.

Fred did the sensible, if not slightly odd, thing. He stepped back, grabbed up what was left of Hermione's takeout and ran for his bedroom.

He'd get George to clean up the dead mouse tomorrow.

-o-o-o-

The shop was pleasantly busy the next day. The Pygmy Puffs sold completely out, and Verity was left with a small mob of uhappy, puffless people. There were at least three dozen different people who wanted to wish George well on his engagement, and another dozen that wanted to thank them for their contribution in the battle. (Fred never failed to be amazed that people still did that.) They had a spill in the magical make-up that caused a few people to change colors, and a minor explosion in the defense section that caused a few soon to be first year students to panic. All in all it was just a regular day.

By the end of it, Fred was starving. He'd had to work through his lunch-break and his porridge had long since worn off. Hermione wasn't home yet, but Fred remembered her mentioning something about working late. Why she had to stay so late when she went in so early was really beyond Fred.

Rather than dwell on it, Fred just went ahead and got ready for his dinner. It consisted of heating up left over spaghetti from a splendid Italian place Hermione had found. (Fred knew he should feel guilty about stealing all of Hermione's leftovers, but mostly he just felt hungry.)

Fred plopped down onto the couch and tucked his legs up before lifting his plate of pasta up. It smelled heavenly, and promised relief for his neglected stomach. Fred twirled a bit onto his fork and lifted the morsel up.

Only to drop it at the sound of a door slam. It was the door at the bottom of the stairs that actually linked the first floor to the flat. Hermione was home, and judging by the loud sound of her small feet, she was none too happy.

Fred sat his pasta down, he wouldn't enjoy it very much if Hermione was spewing long words out and huffing about how horrible the ministry was. It would be the third time this happened. She was steadily getting more unhappy the longer she worked there. Fred was fairly certain she'd joined the ministry in hopes of continuing her work with SPEW. He kind of thought she was in the wrong area for that though.

Fred swung his legs off the couch and gave his food one last longing look before shaking his head. He wouldn't enjoy it right now. And this pasta was going to be enjoyed too, if it was the last thing Fred did. He'd earned the right to enjoy his dinner, he was just going to have to wait a bit longer for it.

The door to the flat flung open and a flurry of brown, navy blue, and black rushed into the sitting area. The flurry, or Hermione, dropped all her items onto the sofa and began to rant.

"He is an utter imbecile! How can he do this? It's not bad enough that we've cut their lands by thirty percent! No, we're going to force them to register too!"

"Who?" Fred inquired as Hermione began to strip out of her business robe. Fred had nearly choked the first time she'd done it, only to discover that she was wearing a t-shirt and slacks beneath. He was used to it now, and he hardly blinked at the motion.

"The Centaurs!" Hermione spat, her voice dripping with a venom she only reserved for when she was really, really angry.

"You're registering them?" Fred was a little surprised Kingsley let them do that.

"I'm not!" Hermione shrieked and dropped her robe to the floor. The fact that she left it there showed just how unhappy she was. She flung her hands through the air in dramatic punctuation to her sentences. "It's that idiot Mullberry's idea!"

"Well, it's not a particularly good one, is it? They're going to rebel."

And then Hermione let Fred know exactly how angry she was in two shrill words. "Damn right!"

Hermione did not use 'foul' language. She just didn't. She had a vast, impressive vocabulary, in three different languages. She could talk anyone under the table, and make anyone feel like an utter idiot in five words or less. She didn't have to lower herself to the simplicity of swear words. In the months they'd been living together, he'd heard her cuss exactly two times. One was under extreme physical pain-she knocked a batch of acid onto her arm and it nearly burned all the skin off before she could put a reversal spell on it. The second was when she found out some horrible secret going on between two of her friends. Fred hadn't bothered to remember the details. It had reminded him of some radio show his mum would listen to with rapt attention when he was younger. The first time she'd said 'hell it hurts' and Fred hadn't even registered until after he'd wrapped her arm up in bandages, the second time she'd used shit and he'd chuckled.

Fred was a little curious as to if she knew any other 'foul' words.

"What are you going to do then?" Fred was rather proud that he managed not to look incredibly fazed by her use of damn.

"Nothing! I' can't do a damn thing about any of this!"

Fred's eyes widened as Hermione turned and gave the couch a hard (and in Fred's opinion, undeserved) kick. "Umm," he stuttered, staring at her dented trainer with wide eyes. He gave his head a little shake and refocused. "Umm, yeah, sure you can. Who is in charge of the registration?"

"Me!" Hermione wept out, and then she dropped to her knees, bringing her hands up to cover her face before sobbing. Fred blinked twice before scrambling up off his couch and dropping beside her. He wrapped an arm around without further thought and rocked gently. He couldn't recall ever having seen her cry before. Hermione was always in control of herself.

Fred rocked her for a full two minutes before he figured out what she could do. It was a trick Lee had used at the Prophet when they were trying to install a new protocol that he had disagreed with. "Then resign or switch departments. You'll force them to find a replacement-one you have to retrain-and that'll make them put a pause on all new projects. You can go to Kingsley while doing all that as well. He'll put a stop to it. The Centaurs helped us in the battle-he won't let them be taken like that."

Hermione hiccupped and then looked at Fred with a rather dumbfounded expression. "What?"

Fred grinned a little. It was all going to be alright.

* * *

_A/N: __Okay, Mya's doing much better, and is home from the hospital right now. I'm still doing a lot of babysitting, and with school and my job, updating might still be sporadic. But I think everything is going to be okay. Mya wants to thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. She's focusing on healing and is hoping to get back to her life soon._

_I couldn't resist with Crookshanks either. My cat is always freaking me out at night sitting on the counter with dead critters. The plots about to really get going in this story. Buckle up, folks!_


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